


Don't Look Back

by Marley93



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst, Blood and Gore, Borrowing some rules from TWD, Dalton Academy, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Hurt, Kurt and Blaine haven't met, M/M, Slow Burn, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 09:23:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11158977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marley93/pseuds/Marley93
Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world overrun by the undead, Kurt gets captured after raiding a hospital. He wakes up in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar faces. Not all of them likeable. He has one goal, and that is to get back to his group while trying to stay alive and sane in a world where the only people you can trust on honesty are the dead ones.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [No Day But Today](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/298317) by Ladydreamer. 



> Okay, so I have always loved post-apocalyptic zombie AU's, and I figured I might as well try my hand at one. I was/am a big fan of 'No Day But Today' by Ladydreamer, and I was devastated (well, okay, not devastated, but pretty bummed out) to find out that it's discontinued. So sad. :'( I loved how realistic it was when it came to hair not being cut, being hungry, sick, thirsty, desperate... And Blaine. Oh, sweet Blaine.  
> Just read it. It's amazing. (It does have Mpreg, so if you don't like that... sorry!)
> 
> I may change the title in the future.
> 
> ANYWAY! There's no way this is going to come near that awesomeness, but I can try to make it enjoyable for you guys! :) Have fun, and thank you for reading! <3

* * *

 

 

When Kurt woke up, the first thing he noticed were his splitting headache and a chafy feeling of rough rope tied around his wrists. He lifted his head, trying to see some more of his environment than only the ceiling.

The walls were covered in wooden panels with built-in bookcases. The windows were barricaded with long planks that had been applied with surprising precision for these days, Kurt noted. All the furniture had been moved to one side of the room and covered in white plastic. The mattress he was laying on was pretty much the only uncovered object in the room.

It was also the most comfortable thing Kurt had laid on in a long time.

He let his head fall back on the mattress and groaned when he was reminded of his headache. Probably a souvenir from walking into that thick tree branch when he was trying to see if anything was following him back to the basecamp.

His heart stopped in his chest.

Basecamp. His supply run. His bag.

Kurt struggled to sit up, ignoring the stabbing pain in his head and looking around properly. When he didn’t see any of his stuff nearby, he cursed. “Son of a bitch,” he hissed, wriggling his wrists.

“Not very nice to insult me like that.”

Kurt looked up at the drawling sound of a young man’s voice. He narrowed his eyes at the boy standing in the doorway, trying to figure out whether this was a good guy or a bad guy.

The stranger was about his age, tall and lean, and had dark brown hair which flopped onto his forehead in a way that made him look slightly younger than he actually was. Kurt estimated his age to be probably around eighteen, nineteen years old. He was handsome, but it was overshadowed by the distinct haughty look he had over him. It was the form of self-confidence Kurt least liked in a person.

“It’s also rude to not introduce yourself when addressed by a stranger,” the young man said, uncrossing his arms from his chest and stepping closer towards Kurt.

Kurt shoved himself back on the mattress until he collided with the wall behind him. “Says you,” he bit back. Everything about the man made him put up all his defences.  “You’re not exactly a great ‘host’ by not introducing yourself to your captive. Where's my stuff?”

There was a moment of silence, and then the other boy smirked. He stood still in front of Kurt, towering over him – holy shit, this guy was taller than he’d expected – and then said: “I have no idea where your 'stuff' is." He leaned over and lowered his voice before adding: "And... I’m not your host.”

Kurt’s blood ran cold in his veins, but he managed to keep his expression unimpressed. “Then I want you to stop wasting my time and go get the person who’s holding me hostage instead,” he said.

“Don’t think you’re in charge here,” the boy said, narrowing his eyes just enough for Kurt to know he was annoyed at being considered a waste of time. The smirk had slid off his face, too, showing off a cold, calculating look. “And I don’t think a little twink like you will be interesting enough for the council to put any effort into. Mark my words, you’ll be tossed back out there with an energy bar and a bottle of water before the day is over.” He walked over to the boarded windows and peeked through the creaks. “Though it’s almost starting to get dark… Who knows, maybe they’ll let you stay the night.” He moved back over to Kurt and patted his cheek harder than necessary. “Don’t count on it, though,” he said, before laughing and walking out of the room.

The door slammed shut behind him, making Kurt cringe. He’d never been a fan of loud sounds, but these days they were a death sentence. Out there, at least.

His insides were boiling, and he could feel that his face was flushed. How dare that guy insult him? How dare he touch him? If only Kurt had his knife, that asshole would be six feet under by now.

Kurt took a deep breath to calm himself down. And then another, because just one didn’t help. He then got to his feet, which were also tied together but in a fashion that allowed him to at least take short steps. Something for which he was grateful, because pacing helped him think.

So he was apparently being held captive by some sort of group that had a council. That meant that if he was allowed to talk to those people, he’d have to bring out his best manipulative or persuasive skills, depending on what type of people they were. Judging by the dickface who had just paid him a visit, not great people. Kurt ran his bound hands through his hair, annoyed by the length of it. He kept forgetting to ask Brittany to cut it short.

Kurt stopped by the window and peeked through the same crack as the stranger had done. His stomach dropped at the sight of a blue and yellow sky; the sun had already set. In the distance he spotted a few slow-moving figures, and even though he couldn’t hear anything from outside, he could vividly imagine the throaty, wet growls that they produced.

He couldn’t go out there in the dark. They couldn’t do that to him.

His breathing had picked up in speed again, and Kurt pressed himself to the wall, taking a couple of deep breaths. “Okay, calm down,” he muttered to himself. “Calm down. Let’s just go over what happened…”

The raid of the hospital wouldn’t have been an easy one to start with, but he’d been with Santana and Noah, so he hadn’t been too worried. They’d been planning it for weeks; where they would enter the building, where they would go and how they’d get out… Everything should have gone smoothly, if it hadn’t been for the undead staggering out from everywhere at the merest inkling of live prey. Kurt had gotten separated from the other two, and it had taken him nearly an hour to get out of the place. He’d narrowly escaped death at least three times, which he was pretty sure was his new record. He’d taken bigger risks than normal, dead set on getting the medicine in his backpack back to the camp.

The thought of both the medicine and his group made his stomach churn. His father was nearly out of his own supply, which had been the main reason for Kurt wanting to do this raid. The idea that he could lose his father now because he’d been too stupid to get caught… And in the way it had happened, too. Kurt wanted to kick himself.

He’d made his way out of the monster-infested building, and as he was running into the shelter of the trees he had looked over his shoulder. He’d then heard a twig nearby snap, and the moment he’d looked back ahead his vision had filled with a massive tree branch. After that everything had gone dark.

Now he was curious about whether that tree branch had still been connected to its original tree, or if it had been purposefully swung at him by an attacker.

Kurt sighed and slid down the wall, hugging his knees to his chest. He didn’t know what to do. He was pretty sure it was a bad idea to try and break out of this room while bound and defenceless.

His eyes burned, and he blinked fast to get rid of the feeling. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry. Not here, not now.

Just when he pressed his face to his knees, the door opened again. Kurt’s head snapped back up, expecting to see the same asshole again. A vicious snarl was already on his lips, but died away when he saw it wasn’t the same guy standing there. Instead, an African-American boy, still not much older than Kurt was, looked him up and down.

Kurt scrambled to his feet, a challenging expression on his face. “Came to taunt me as well?” he asked, pleased to hear that his voice didn’t quiver.

The guy raised an amused eyebrow. “No…” he said slowly. “But I’m assuming you’ve met Sebastian, then.”

“If he’s the snarky little meerkat from earlier, then yes,” Kurt growled, eyeing the other boy as he moved towards him. His first instinct was to step back, but something about this one seemed a lot less dangerous than ‘Sebastian’.

“Yeah, he doesn’t deal well with newcomers,” The new stranger said. He held out a hand. “Sorry, where are my manners. I’m David Thompson.”

“I’m bound,” Kurt said shortly, not reciprocating the outstretched hand.

David seemed to be stunned for a few seconds, and then chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that. Precautions and all that. Hang on.” He took a pocket knife from the inside of his worn leather jacket, and cut the rope that tied Kurt’s hands together loose. “I can’t release your feet, I’m afraid,” he said. “Not until the others agree that you’re harmless.”

“Who says I am harmless?” Kurt asked, lifting his chin. It only got him another amused look from David.

“You have no weapons,” David said. “And you don’t strike me as the type of guy who would kill for no reason.”

“You have my bag,” Kurt replied coolly, “which is reason enough for me to want to kill anyone who’s in my way of getting it back.”

This made David hesitate. He looked Kurt up and down again, seeming to re-assess him. “Must have got some important stuff in it, then,” he said, his tone not giving away anything he might know about the bag’s contents. “How about you come with me to meet up with the rest of the council, and tell us what you were up to out there on your own?”

Kurt didn’t reply, but stared David down instead. He wasn’t about to tell anyone what was in that bag.  Medicines were scarce these days, and Kurt didn’t intend on giving his up. If they hadn’t already checked out what was in the bag, they probably would do it soon anyway.  

David didn’t seem very impressed. “Come on, then,” he said, grabbing Kurt by the arm and gently tugging him along. “Time for you to tell us your story, and for us to figure out what to do with you.”


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

 

David led Kurt down a wide hallway that Kurt would have found impressive, maybe even intimidating in normal circumstances. Now, however, he was more busy trying to mentally prepare for whatever would be thrown at him when he appeared in front of the council.

 _Council_.

The word alone evoked a feeling of annoyance in Kurt. It reminded him of the stupid RPG-games Sam and Finn used to go on about. High council of the elves or something. If he had to choose something to be glad about for losing it when shit hit the fan, it would be those idiotic games.

“I wouldn’t be too nervous,” David said, as he led Kurt down a grand spiral staircase. Honestly, it was ridiculous how the whole building seemed to have maintained its stateliness. “We’re not going to kill you or anything. That’s not really our style.”

Kurt glanced at David, arching an eyebrow. “I’m not nervous,” he said coolly. “And you’ll have a hard time trying to kill me.”

Okay, so what if he was bluffing a little. True, he had grown to be a pretty lethal fighter with his knife, thanks to his skill with Sai-swords, but when it came to hand to hand combat he had next to no experience. Still, he was light on his feet and pretty agile. Maybe he could outrun and outsmart whatever opponent he had to face. Then again, this was a council, and so far the two boys he had met had a certain air of… preppiness about them, even if the time of hair product and aftershave was long gone. (Much to Kurt’s dismay.)

David didn’t seem phased by Kurt’s words, and continued to lead Kurt through numerous halls in silence.

Finally, Kurt couldn’t stand it anymore. “What was this place?” he asked, as they passed more and more boarded up windows. “Was it like a hotel or something?”

“No,” David answered, pushing open a door and letting Kurt pass. “It’s Dalton Academy. Westerville’s most renowned private boarding school.” He puffed out his chest a little, looking proud, and Kurt could only assume the boy had attended the school when it was still fulfilling its original purpose.

“That explains the loftiness of the décor,” Kurt muttered to himself.

“We’re here,” David said, either not having heard Kurt’s words, or just ignoring them.

They had stopped in front of large double doors with beautiful, old engraving. It all reminded Kurt of the luxury spa he had once visited together with Carole for their ‘sort-of-Mother’s-Day-but-not-really’. The knowledge that she was there with his father right now, back at the base camp, made Kurt feel slightly better. At least she had had proper medical training, which made her invaluable to their group.

Invaluable to his dad.

From behind the doors came muted murmurs, which instantly stopped when David and Kurt stepped into the room. Eight pairs of eyes were trained on them immediately.

Kurt looked around to avoid the stares; it was spacious, but rather dark here. The windows in this room were boarded shut more carefully than in the rest of the building. The only light came from a couple of candles that were placed in holders on the wall. On one side of the room was set up to be some sort of sitting room, it seemed, with several leather couches and armchairs grouped together. On the other side, the built-in bookcases had been cleared of books and now held various supplies; from batteries to flashlights, from canned foods to energy bars. Kurt guessed this was the central point of this group’s accommodation.

David moved over to the group of boys, some of whom looked curiously at Kurt, and started to discuss something with a boy with Asian roots. The second boy frowned slightly as he glanced briefly at Kurt, and then shook his head, muttering something back.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like being talked about, especially not when he was in the same room. Still, he waited by the doors, trying to look patient and unimpressed, scanning the faces of the other boys. Some seemed slightly younger than him, others a little older. Still, they were all of about his age. Kurt wondered where their parents where.

“Alright, David suddenly spoke up. “Fellow Warblers, as you all know we found an unconscious person near the hospital, earlier today. I’m pleased to know that he woke up and seems to be okay. Kurt, why don’t you step forward and introduce yourself?”

Kurt was taken by surprise by this almost amicable approach. He stepped forward, clearing his throat. “I’m Kurt,” he said slowly. “I’m nineteen, I used to live in Lima… Um…?”

The Asian boy looked at him steadily, as did the others, and said: “Kurt, my name is Wes, and these fine young men here are Jeff, Trent, Nick, Thad, Ethan, Luke and Nicholas.”

The other boys nodded or waved, and Kurt gave an awkward nod back. He’d been prepared to fight, or at least argue, with hostile idiots like Sebastian. Not to be met with a group of friendly – though pompous – teenagers. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on anymore.

Wes continued to talk. “We’re missing two current members of our group, but they should be here soon.”

“What do you mean ‘current’ members?” Kurt asked, suspicion rising again.

Wes solemnly looked down for a moment, as did the other boys. “We have all suffered losses,” he said eventually, nodding towards a far corner of the room, where some sort of shrine was set up. When Kurt looked better, though, he realized it was a small memorial with pictures of several boys.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt muttered. “I should have known… I know the feeling.” He looked down as well, feeling stupid and impolite all of the sudden.

“Sometimes I wish we could still honour them in song,” the boy who had been introduced as Trent said sadly. Jeff, who sat next to him on the couch, placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

 Just when Kurt thought he couldn’t bear the tense silence anymore, the door opened behind him, and two boys marched into the room. One of them was Sebastian – Kurt was pleased to see the shock and displeasure on Sebastian’s face at the sight of him – and a curly-haired boy with thick eyebrows that were drawn together in a frown. He was somewhat shorter than Kurt himself, but stockier built.

The second boy didn’t seem to take note of Kurt’s presence at all as he walked straight over to the group and said: “We need to enforce the fence on the East side. The creeps are near to getting in there. Any group larger than this one pressing up against it and the whole thing will go down.”

“We’ll get to it tomorrow,” Wes said with a short nod in Kurt’s direction. “Blaine, this is the boy Ethan, Nick and Jeff picked up earlier. We were about to decide what to do with him.”

The curly haired boy, Blaine, turned around and looked at Kurt, eyes wide in surprise. “Oh,” he said. “Hi. Sorry I just barged past you there. I’m Blaine.” He stretched out his hand, which Kurt shook.

“Kurt,” he said, his voice a little breathy. He couldn’t help but notice the other boy’s eyes had the colour of deep amber. “Okay, seriously, what is going on here? Why are you all so… so…” He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to say ‘polite’ or ‘naïve’. Eventually, he settled for “Human?”

Some of the boys frowned, but Blaine, Wes and David smiled.

“We’re the Dalton Academy Warblers,” David said with a shrug. “It’s who we are and what we stand for.”

Kurt stared at him. “You haven’t been out there a lot, have you?” he asked.

“Only when necessary, on raids for food and supplies downtown,” Wes answered. “We don’t want to risk losing more friends to the creepers.”

Kurt continued to stare, absolutely stunned by the fact that the undead were this group’s biggest concern. Sure, his own group was wary of the monsters, but they could easily outrun them. It was the herds they were more worried about, but those were rare.

No, what they were most afraid of were other people. Kurt had heard about men and women who raided camps during the nights, sometimes even in broad daylight. The least dangerous were the ones who simply tied you up and took your stuff. However, rumours had spread about groups who murdered the men and raped the women, sometimes even children. Some enjoyed torturing innocent people, immobilizing them and using them as bait for the undead. He had even heard his father whisper something about people reverting to cannibalism.

“Kurt.”

“What?” Kurt blinked and realized he’d been lost in thought. “Sor- what?”

Blaine stood in front of him, looking serious. “The council wants to ask you a few questions,” he said. “If you’d come with us?”

Kurt groaned inwardly. Seriously, they were moving again? “Who of you actually are the council? Can’t we just stay here?”

“Come on,” Wes just said, nodding towards the door.

David and Blaine followed him with Kurt in between them. They moved across the hall into what seemed to be an abandoned teachers’ office. Wes closed the door behind them and pointed at the single chair in front of the desk. “Please take a seat,” he said, while he, Blaine and David stood behind the desk.

Kurt looked at the chair and debated whether he should sit or not. He slowly moved towards it, though, and sat down.

“First of all,” Wes said. “We want to know whether you have a group, where they are, and of how many people it consists.”

“More than yours,” Kurt answered immediately. “And they’re probably looking for me as we speak.”

Somehow, the questions about his group had rekindled that little flame in him that chanted ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ in his head. It had been muted ever since he’d woken up, but the mere idea of his friends and family being threatened was enough to restart it.

The three boys behind the desk shared a look, but Blaine was the first to speak. “Look, Kurt,” he said slowly. “I know it must be strange to just… wake up here, but those guys only tried to help you by bringing you here. They probably saved your life, actually.”

Kurt hated that he was right.

“Fine,” he said. “Maybe they did. But I need to get my stuff and get back to my group as soon as possible. There are things in that bag that I need to get to my father as soon as possible. So just give me back my knife and bag, with all the original contents, and I won’t be bothering you anymore.”

Wes sighed. “We can’t just take the risk of you telling someone where we are,” he said. “We’re not stupid; we’ve heard the stories of raids and killings. We’ve encountered a few people who wanted to be let in, and got aggressive when we couldn’t do that.”

Kurt couldn’t help but snort. “Do you honestly think I’m the type of guy to tell my group exactly where to find you so we can come back to win this place over from you?” he asked. “We’ve got enough trouble as it is. We don’t want beef with anyone else.”

Wes and David shared a quick look, while Blaine gazed perspicuously at Kurt.

Eventually, after what seemed to be a non-verbal conversation held through eyebrow language between David and Wes, the latter looked at Kurt and said: “Either you agree to leave on our terms, or you don’t leave at all.”

“What?!” Kurt jumped up, and Blaine immediately stepped forward, his hands raised slightly and balled into fists, but neither of them could even think of meeting the conflict before the door slammed open.

All four of the boys turned to face Trent, who stood in the door opening with wide eyes and a pale face.

“The fence on the east side,” Trent brought out. “It’s down.”


End file.
